


If You Must Leave

by camwolfe



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Chronic Illness, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Other, Poverty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 15:25:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2586431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camwolfe/pseuds/camwolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah Rogers and Winifred Barnes learn early on that there's no point in trying to keep their sons away from each other. Not that they'd try. </p><p>The lives of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, as seen through the eyes of their mothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Must Leave

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [If You Must Leave](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2666153) by [joankindom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joankindom/pseuds/joankindom)



> I know I said that I was going to go and write something happy, and I honestly meant to. I don't know why I thought that I could write this and make it a light and happy story, but I really couldn't. I also thought I could fit this into 1000 words, though, so apparently don't trust anything I say. 
> 
> Also, the title is from "You" by Keaton Henson.

“Bucky! Shoes off!” Winifred called from the kitchen. Bucky hadn’t even come around the corner yet, but he never took his shoes off without prompting.

“I did!” Bucky protested, but Winifred heard the distinct sound of him kicking his shoes against the wall. She sighed and turned around as Bucky scrambled around the corner into the kitchen.

“What’s that?” Bucky asked, his head barely tall enough to see over the top of the stove.

“It’s stew,” Winifred told him. Admittedly, calling it ‘stew’ was a stretch. It was really just a pot filled with water and whatever Winifred had been able to find in the kitchen.

“It smells good,” Bucky said happily, standing on his tip-toes to see into the pot.

Winifred gently pushed him back from the stove. “Wash up first, and then _maybe_ I’ll let you have a few spoonfuls before dinner.”

Bucky cheered and ran back out of the room. Winifred smiled despite herself. It didn’t matter that she’d spent the entire afternoon crying on the floor in the hallway, desperately trying to figure out how she’d feed her family that night. Bucky was a little bundle of energy, and he bounced home from school every day with that same bright smile on his face.

Winifred turned back to the stove, her own smile fading as she looked into the pot. Maybe she could add more water? It wouldn’t help the taste, of course, but it might be a little more filling –

A small, unfamiliar cough sounded from behind her. Winifred turned around again, her eyes finally seeing the small blond child standing in the doorway of her kitchen.

“Hello,” she said slowly.

The boy coughed again. “Hello,” he said back. His voice was hoarse, but surprisingly strong for someone his size.

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky said, racing back into the kitchen. He threw his arm around the boy, ignoring the boy’s splutters of indignation as Bucky pulled him against his shoulder.

“This is Steve,” Bucky said proudly.

“Oh?” Winifred said. “Nice to meet you, Steve.”

“Hello,” Steve said again. He tried desperately to wriggle out from under Bucky’s arm, but Bucky simply wrapped both arms around him and held him tighter.

“Steve’s my new friend,” Bucky said happily, ignoring Steve’s shrieks of protest. Steve finally slipped free and leapt half on top of Bucky, nearly knocking him over. Bucky howled with laughter and stumbled backward into the living room, falling harmlessly onto the carpet.

“Is Steve staying for dinner?” Winifred called. She looked back at the stew again.

“Can he?” Bucky asked eagerly, scrambling back into the kitchen. Steve followed, his big blue eyes watching Winifred warily.

Winifred eyed Steve carefully. He was far too skinny, even for a child his age. His skin was too pale, and Winifred knew enough about coughs to know that his didn’t sound good.

“Of course,” Winifred said.

“Yes!” Bucky shouted. “Steve, come see the book I got for my birthday!”

Steve flashed Winifred a quick smile before following Bucky out of the room.

Winifred stared at the food on her stove. There’d be enough for George and Bucky, and she could give Steve her portion.

A wail from down the hall let Winifred know that the baby was awake. She sighed and turned away from the stove. The small bites she’d managed while she’d prepared the stew would have to be enough for both her and the baby inside of her, at least for tonight.

 

Sarah Rogers regretted renting an apartment with so many stairs.

She’d had a nine hour shift today, and she’d been on her feet the entire time. Her legs had already been shaking with exhaustion by the time she got to her building, and the stairs just seemed so daunting today.

Sarah sighed and started to climb. Steve would be waiting for her. She’d managed to buy a loaf of bread on her way home tonight, although that was mostly because the baker had been about to throw it out anyway and had given her a discount.

It was better than nothing. Steve needed to eat.

Sarah finally reached her door and let herself in. It was dark in the apartment, the single window letting in a little bit of light from the street below. She turned the light on, blinking in the sudden brightness.

Her apartment couldn’t even really be considered a one-bedroom. It was a single small room, with a tiny little room off to one side where she and Steve had shoved a mattress. It was better than the street, though, and it was warm enough in the winter that Steve wouldn’t freeze to death in his sleep. Sarah could barely keep on top of the rent, let alone pay for food and Steve’s clothing and the various medicines that he needed.

Still. It was something.

Steve was curled on the mattress, his arms around an unfamiliar book. He was deeply asleep.

Sarah stared at the other small boy, stretched out next to Steve. He was taller than Steve, with a healthier flush in his cheeks and a brightness in his skin. He couldn’t have been much older than Steve, though. He was seven, at the most.

Sarah blinked tiredly at them. This must be the boy that had shown up at her door the other day, with Steve under one arm and a baseball under the other. He’d introduced himself as… what was his name? Buddy?

Sarah gently knelt down on the mattress next to them. She carefully brushed her hand down Steve’s thin arm.

He woke instantly, blinking blearily at her in the soft light.

“Hi,” he said happily. Steve scrambled up and into her arms, and Sarah tightened her arms around him. He was all skin and bones, but his heartbeat felt strong tonight. That was good.

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” she told him quietly. “But I think your friend was probably supposed to be home a while ago.”

Steve glanced out the window, as if finally noticing the darkness outside. “Uh oh,” he said. He freed himself from Sarah’s grip and crawled back over to the other boy.

“Bucky,” he whispered urgently. “Bucky, wake up.”

Bucky sat bolt upright. He stared at Steve for a moment before glancing at Sarah.

“Hi,” he said cheerfully. “My name’s Bucky. I met you the other day.”

Sarah laughed despite herself. “I remember.”

“I think you were supposed to be home ages ago,” Steve said worriedly. Bucky glanced at the window and nodded.

“Yep. I should probably go,” he said, jumping to his feet.

“Wait, wait,” Sarah said hurriedly. “It’s late. We’ll take you home.”

“All right,” Bucky said. He was already standing by the door, waiting for Steve to crawl off the mattress.

Sarah left the bread on the counter and locked the apartment behind them. The boys bounced down the stairs ahead of her, chattering excitedly about the baseball game they were going to join tomorrow at lunch.

Sarah knew that there was no way that Steve could run fast enough to play a baseball game, but she didn’t say anything. He’d try no matter what she said.

Thankfully, Bucky only lived around the corner. Sarah’s legs were aching with exhaustion by the time they were climbing the stairs to his apartment, but she didn’t care. Steve’s breath was catching in his chest by the time they reached the second floor, and his face was turning white.

“Steve,” Sarah started, but Bucky had already stopped hopping up the stairs. Bucky immediately dropped to the floor at the next landing, crossing his legs beneath him.

Steve stopped, staring at him. “What are you doing?”

“’M tired,” Bucky announced. “I need a rest.”

Steve gratefully sat down next to him. Sarah watched him carefully, but after a minute his breathing was slowing again.

Bucky was still talking about the baseball game, but he was watching Steve too. When Steve finally smiled back at him, Bucky grinned and hopped back to his feet. Bucky held out his hand for Steve to grab, and to Sarah’s surprise, Steve took it.

Bucky tugged Steve to his feet easily, but didn’t let go of his hand. The three of them started up the stairs again, Bucky pulling Steve behind him.

They stopped in front of a worn door. Bucky pulled a key out of his pocket and stuck it in the lock, but the door was already opening.

“James Buchanan Barnes, where have you been?” a woman shouted. She was clearly Bucky’s mother. Between the dark hair and the blue eyes, Bucky was her spitting image.

“At Steve’s!” Bucky said happily. He held up Steve’s hand like a trophy.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said hastily. “I just got home and found them, I didn’t realize that he was…”

Sarah trailed off as she realized that she’d just admitted to leaving her six year old at home by himself for hours, late at night.

The woman sighed. She was very pregnant, and she braced her hands on her back as she stood in the doorway. “Bucky, inside. Now.”

“Bye, Steve!” Bucky said happily. He dropped Steve’s hand and darted inside the apartment.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said again. She pulled Steve back against her.

The woman sighed again. “It’s all right, really. It’s not the first time he’s come home late, and it probably won’t be the last.”

“Sorry,” Steve said. Sarah winced at the hoarseness in his voice.

The woman smiled down at him. “It’s all right, Steve. If he’s with you, it’s okay if he stays out a little bit longer.”

“I told you!” Bucky shouted from behind the woman. The distinctive sound of a baby’s cry started.

“Oops,” Sarah heard Bucky’s voice say.

Bucky’s mother sighed again. “Winifred Barnes,” she said to Sarah. She held her hand out.

Sarah shook it, still keeping one hand on Steve’s bony shoulders. “Sarah Rogers.”

“Glad to finally meet you,” Winifred said. “You’re a nurse?”

“Yes,” Sarah said. “Down at the hospital.”

“That’s wonderful,” Winifred said firmly. The baby started screaming more loudly, and there was a loud crash from inside the apartment.

“Oops,” Bucky’s voice said again. Winifred closed her eyes for a moment.

“Good night,” she said to Sarah, but her eyes were kind and there was a smile on her face.

“Good night,” Sarah replied, tugging Steve backward.

“Bye, Bucky!” Steve called as Sarah pulled him down the hallway.

Bucky skidded back out into the hallway again, waving frantically. “Bye, Steve!”

Winifred’s arm snaked out from the door and pulled Bucky back inside.

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” Steve said happily as they started down the stairs again.

“Very nice,” Sarah agreed.

 

Sarah saw at least a few members of the Barnes family every week after that. If she got home from work and Steve wasn’t there, she’d head over to the Barnes apartment. Sure enough, Steve would usually be happily curled on the sofa next to Bucky, safe, warm, and fed.

Sarah liked Winifred Barnes, she really did. She was a no-nonsense woman, which Sarah respected. Her children were kind and respectful, if a bit too full of energy. Her husband wasn’t around often, but he always smiled and nodded at Sarah when he was.

Sarah’s fondness for Winifred couldn’t overshadow her guilt, though. She knew very well that Winifred was feeding Steve and taking care of him like he was her own son. Sarah didn’t miss the fact that Steve’s face was brighter when he came home from Bucky’s house. She couldn’t miss that Steve had more energy with some food in his stomach, and that he coughed less when he spent the evening in the Barnes’s warm apartment.

Sarah tried to stop it. She told Steve to come home for dinner instead of eating with Bucky, and he did so. But it was a rare day that Sarah could make it home in time to feed Steve dinner, and that was only if she had enough money to buy food at all.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she’d whisper to Steve at night, listening to his breath rasp in his chest as he lay next to her. She’d curl around him, desperately trying to shield him from the cool night air that always seemed to irritate his lungs.

Sarah beat Steve home one evening. All of her money from her shifts that week had gone to the rent, and everything from the week before had gone to Steve’s medicines. That left nothing for dinner tonight. Sarah had managed to sneak a few bites of food at the hospital, but that was all she’d had for two days.

If she’d had anything else, if she’d had even a cent more, it would have gone to food for Steve. Everything she had, everything she did, she did for him.

She knew what the neighbours said. She knew what her coworkers whispered behind her back. Louisa, a woman that Sarah had worked with at the hospital for three years, had laughed when Sarah had pocketed her meager week’s pay.

“Bet she’s just gonna spend it on that kid of hers,” Louisa whispered to Margaret as they walked down the hall behind Sarah. “What’s the point, have you heard that kid breathe? She’s lucky if he makes it another few months, let alone another year – “

Sarah spun around and stared both of them down. Both woman froze for an instant, taken aback by the ferocity of Sarah’s glare. Louisa recovered first, giggling to Margaret as they hurried past her.

Sarah had tried to brush off the woman’s callous comments, but they had stuck with her anyway.

Sarah was sitting at the rickety table in the corner of her small apartment, staring at the paper in front of her. She was desperately trying to see if she could afford the next month’s rent. If she worked two extra shifts next week, and three the week after, they would just barely scrape by.

The sound of a key turning a lock pulled Sarah out of her stupor. She looked up and smiled bravely at Steve as he walked in.

“Hi!” Steve said cheerfully. He shut the door behind him, hurrying over to kiss her on the cheek.

“Hello,” Sarah said, forcing herself to smile. “Did you go to Bucky’s after school?”

“Yep!” Steve said.

Sarah then noticed the fresh bread roll in Steve’s hand. He was carefully pulling it apart, and he proudly handed her the bigger piece.

“Here,” he said happily. He hopped up onto the chair next to her, putting his thin arms on the table and popping the rest of the roll into his mouth.

“Where did you get this?” Sarah asked, turning the bread over in her hands.

“From Bucky’s mother,” Steve said cheerfully. “We had soup, too, but she said I could take this home with me. I wanted to give a piece to you.”

“I ate at work, but thank you, Steve,” Sarah said. She passed the piece back over to him, and he shrugged and took it from her.

Sarah watched him eat it, and something snapped inside of her. She nearly knocked over the chair in her haste to stand up. She threw on her coat and gently pulled Steve’s hat back over his ears.

“Where are we going?” Steve asked, confused. Sarah grabbed his hand and towed him out of the apartment.

Sarah didn’t answer him as she stalked back through their neighbourhood.

“Why are we going to Bucky’s?” Steve asked again. Sarah bent down and lifted Steve easily, cringing at how light his small body was.

“I need to talk to his mother,” Sarah said stiffly as she hurried up the stairs. Steve clung to her, silent.

She put him down once they were outside of the Barnes’s door, although she still kept a grip on his hand. She knocked firmly on the door with the other.

Winifred opened it a moment later. The smell of fresh soup wafted out from behind her, and Sarah’s stomach growled in spite of herself.

“Sarah?” Winifred said, frowning slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Winifred was very pregnant by now. She held her hand under her stomach, with the other holding the toddler on her hip.

Bucky suddenly appeared behind Winifred’s legs.

“Steve!” he said enthusiastically. Winifred grabbed his shirt before he could run past her.

“We are not a charity case,” Sarah said coldly. “I appreciate it, I really do, but I don’t need you to feed my son for me.”

“Sarah –“ Winifred tried.

“I know that I don’t have a husband,” Sarah continued. “And I know that I’m just a nurse, but I am doing everything that I can. I don’t… I don’t need you to provide for him. He’s my son, he’s my responsibility, and I can take care of him!”

“I know,” Winifred said simply. “I know, Sarah.”

“Then why – “

“We have enough,” Winifred interrupted. Her face was gentle. “We have enough right now, Sarah. Times aren’t great, but George got a promotion at work and we have enough. It’s not much, but my children and my husband are fed. I have enough to spare some for him. It’s not charity.”

“You shouldn’t have to – “ Sarah tried. She suddenly felt like she was going to cry.

“I want to,” Winifred interrupted again. “If the situations were reversed…”

“But – “ Sarah tried again.

“If the situations were reversed, I would hope you would do the same for Bucky,” Winifred said firmly.

Sarah stared her in the eyes, clenching her jaw. She didn’t want to cry in front of her son.

“Please let me help,” Winifred said, more softly this time. “Please.”

Steve tugged on Sarah’s hand, then. She looked down at him, at his pale skin and his blond hair and the way his cheekbones stood out on his thin face.

She gritted her teeth and nodded once, still staring at Steve’s face. She looked back up at Winifred.

“Thank you,” she said as strongly as she could manage.

Winifred nodded back, but Sarah was already walking back down the hallway. Steve’s hand was warm in hers.

Sarah listened to Steve breathing next to her that night. His lungs were clearer today, and Sarah drifted off to sleep listening to the sound of her son’s heartbeat.

 

Sarah didn’t see Winifred for another month.

She and Steve were asleep on their mattress one evening. Sarah had piled their coats on top of their blankets, but it wasn’t really helping against the cold. Steve was asleep against Sarah’s chest, but Sarah was kept awake by the sound of the wind howling against the window.

A sudden banging on the door made Sarah sit bolt upright. Steve stirred against her, opening his eyes sleepily.

Sarah ran to the door and pulled it open. Bucky stood there, his eyes huge and his face even whiter than Steve’s.

“Bucky?” Steve said groggily from inside the room.

Sarah was already moving before Bucky even started talking. She pulled her coat on and threw Steve’s at him.

“It’s my ma, there’s something wrong, there’s something wrong and I tried to get Miss Johnson, she’s the midwife, but she isn’t there and I can’t find her anywhere and no one else is awake and they won’t come to the door so I came over here – “

Sarah grabbed Steve’s old coat and wrapped it around Bucky’s shoulders as she shoved her feet into her shoes. He wasn’t wearing a coat or even a sweater.

“Steve, get up,” Sarah ordered, but Steve was already putting his own shoes on.

They ran all the way to Bucky’s apartment. Steve didn’t even protest as Sarah lifted him into her arms before they climbed the stairs.

Bucky led the way into the apartment.

The chaos hit Sarah the minute she ran in. It was warm in here at least, but there was so much _noise_.

Rebecca was crawling across the carpet, screaming hysterically. Winifred was kneeling on the floor, one hand on her stomach and the other clenched in the carpet. George was kneeling over her, his hands on her back and his face panicked.

Sarah set Steve down and immediately pulled off her coat, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor.

“Steve, Bucky, take Rebecca and go into the bedroom,” she ordered.

Bucky picked the baby up into his arms, and he and Steve hastily ran into the bedroom. They pulled the door shut behind them, and Sarah knelt next to Winifred.

“Something’s wrong,” Winifred gasped.

“It’ll be fine,” Sarah said confidently, rolling up her sleeves. “George, I need hot water and towels.”

He stared at her blankly.

“Right now,” Sarah said firmly. George stumbled to his feet, and Sarah went to work.

The baby was born two hours later. A healthy baby girl, with a full set of lungs that she made quick work of.

Winifred started to cry as Sarah placed the baby into her arms. George knelt beside them, his eyes wide.

“See? Perfectly fine,” Sarah said to him as she went to work cleaning up both the mother and the baby. 

It always was.

By the time the sun was starting to peek through the window, Winifred and the baby were comfortably asleep on the sofa. George sat next to them, his eyes closed.

Sarah quietly opened the door to the bedroom. Steve and Bucky were asleep on either side of the bed, Rebecca safely tucked between them.

Sarah smiled fondly at them. Her shift didn’t start until later that day, and so she curled up in the armchair next to the bed and let herself get a few hours of sleep.

 

The boys were nine when the fights started getting worse.

Winifred knew that Bucky and Steve got into fights with the other boys in the neighbourhood sometimes. It didn’t bother her. It was good for them to be out there getting rid of some of that energy. It would make them tough.

It was going beyond that now, though. Bucky started coming home holding his ribs, or pressing a hand to his split lip. Steve always looked even worse, although he never made a sound when Winifred got him cleaned up. Bucky whined and tried to duck out from under her hands, but Steve stood there silently and defiant as Winifred tried to get the worst of the dirt and gravel out of his cuts.

“How does this keep happening, Bucky?” she asked finally, exasperated. Rebecca was bouncing on the couch shrieking, and baby Alice was tugging at Bucky’s shoelaces.

“It just does,” Bucky muttered. He was scowling, although dirt was obscuring most of his face.

“Helen from down the hall said that her boys don’t get into nearly this much trouble,” Winifred said sternly. “It’s only you and Steve who are coming home with your clothes all ripped and blood in your mouth.”

Bucky scowled again. “It’s not my fault! They always pick on Steve because he’s the smallest, but they don’t expect him to fight back and he always does. So then they get mad and hit him harder and I always try and stop them, but they’re always so much bigger.”

Winifred sighed. “Have you thought about just running away?”

Bucky crossed his arms stubbornly. “Steve can’t run for very long. They’d catch us.”

Winifred gently set the washcloth down on the counter. “Bucky…”

Bucky stared at her.

“Just… try to be a little safer,” Winifred said finally. She tapped Bucky’s nose gently. “This face is going to make you very popular with the girls when you’re older. Try not to break it now.”

Bucky stuck his tongue out at her and ran off to join Rebecca on the couch. Winifred sighed and went over to rescue Alice from being trampled by her siblings.

She was putting Alice down for a nap when Bucky ran into the room and threw his arms around her.

“Love you,” Bucky mumbled into her waist before running back into the living room.

Winifred watched him go.

 

They were eleven when they had their first real fight.

Sarah knew something was wrong the moment she walked into the apartment. Steve was sitting at the table by himself, drawing in his sketchpad. She knew that he was angry at something because of the heavy pencil strokes he drew across the page, not to mention that it was rare to see him without Bucky.

“How was your day?” Sarah asked casually as she carefully put away the few groceries that she’d been able to buy.

“Fine,” Steve mumbled, not looking up from his sketchbook. “How was yours?”

“It was good,” Sarah said. “Bucky didn’t come home with you after school?”

As she’d predicted, Steve scowled more deeply. “No.”

Sarah eased herself onto the rickety chair across from him. Her back was aching again. “That’s strange.”

“Not really.”

“Did the two of you have a fight?”

Steve nearly stabbed his pencil through the paper. “Yes.”

“Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

“No.”

“Well,” Sarah said carefully. “If you want to tell me, you know you can.”

“Yeah,” Steve mumbled, sinking further into his chair.

Sarah sighed and started making dinner.

 

A week later, Sarah got home to find Steve still sitting at the table. He was staring at his homework this time, still scowling.

Sarah opened her mouth to say hello, but Steve looked up and his face caught the light. Sarah gasped and dropped her bag on the floor.

“What happened?” she asked, dropping to her knees beside Steve’s chair and turning his face towards her.

Steve tried to pull out of her grasp, turning his head towards the wall. “Nothin.”

“’Nothin’ did this to your face?” Sarah said indignantly as she tugged him toward her again. He finally looked at her, and Sarah wanted to cry. The skin around his left eye was already swelling and turning black. His nose looked broken, and his mouth and chin were covered in blood that he’d clearly tried to hastily clean off. The entire left side of his face was covered in dirt and mud, and the rest was already turning into bruises. The bruises and cuts clearly formed the shape of a bootprint, right over Steve’s cheekbone.

“Who was it?” Sarah asked softly, grabbing a damp washcloth off the counter and brushing it gently over the cuts.

“Nobody,” Steve mumbled. He stared at the floor.

Sarah hesitated. “Bucky didn’t do this to you, did he?”

Steve jerked upright again, his eyes wide. “No! Of course not!”

“All right!” Sarah said hurriedly. “I didn’t think so. I just had to check, I know you two had a fight – “

“Bucky wouldn’t ever do this, to anyone!” Steve said, his eyes still wide. “Roy and Norman and Alfie only did it because Bucky wasn’t around, which is my fault because I was mean to him and so _this_ is my fault too – “

“Steve,” Sarah said gently. “You didn’t deserve this. Those are horrible boys, I should have a word with their mothers –“

“No!” Steve nearly screamed, falling half off his chair.

Sarah caught him and gently pushed him upright again. “All right, all right. But Steve – “

“It’s fine,” Steve said stubbornly. “I don’t need Bucky around to protect me. I’m fine on my own.”

“I know,” Sarah said. “But it’s nice to have someone around, all the same.”

Steve shrugged and stared at the floor again.

 

They’d just finished dinner when a knock sounded on the door.

Sarah opened it to find Winifred standing with her hands on Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky was scowling, his arms crossed across his chest.

“Evening, Sarah,” Winifred said calmly. “Is Steve here?”

“Steve!” Sarah called over her shoulder. She turned back to smile reassuringly at Bucky. He stared stubbornly at his feet.

“Sorry to bother you,” Winifred said. “But I couldn’t take one more minute of Bucky moping around. So I made him put his shoes on and I told him that he was coming over here to apologize to Steve whether he – oh!”

Winifred gasped as Steve came to stand beside Sarah in the doorway. Sarah put an arm protectively around his thin shoulders, but even in the dim hallway light the bruises on his face were clear.

Bucky was staring at him, eyes wide. “Steve?”

Steve scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, the mirror image of how Bucky had been a minute ago.

“What happened?” Winifred asked, her hand over her mouth.

Sarah thought the bootprint on Steve’s face spoke for itself, but she tried anyway. “Apparently Steve got into a bit of a scuffle with some boys -”

“Who was it?” Bucky demanded. His face was turning red, and his hands were balled into fists. “Was it Roy and Alfie again?”

“It wasn’t anyone!” Steve protested.

Bucky scowled. “When I see them next, I’m gonna punch them so hard that they’ll be spitting blood for a week – “

“Bucky!” Winifred admonished.

“I don’t need you to fight them for me!” Steve shouted at him. Sarah sighed. “I can take care of myself!”

Bucky stared at him. “Have you seen your own face?”

“Why do you even care?” Steve asked, crossing his arms again. “I thought you said you never wanted to be friends with me ever again.”

Bucky frowned, but he was still staring at the bruises on the side of Steve’s face. “I didn’t mean that, Stevie, you know I didn’t, I was just mad because you said that I wasn’t any good at school.”

“I didn’t say that! I said that you shouldn’t copy off of Annie’s work!”

“And then you said that I should just try harder, but you know I’m trying, I’m just not good at writing and you already know that – “

“I said that I’d help you! I just didn’t want you to get in trouble again, Miss Graham already got mad at us twice this week!”

“Boys,” Winifred interrupted. “Stop.”

Both of them stopped talking and looked at her.

“It sounds like neither of you meant to be mean to the other, did you?”

“No,” Bucky and Steve said at the same time.

“Well then,” Winifred said. She gently shook Bucky’s shoulders.

“’M sorry,” Bucky muttered.

Steve scowled at him for a minute, before he finally uncrossed his arms. “I’m sorry too.”

Bucky’s scowl fell away immediately. “Wanna come see the marbles I won off of Harold yesterday?”

“Yes,” Steve said. Bucky cheered and took off down the hallway again. Steve ran after him.

“Steve, your coat!” Sarah called desperately. Winifred shook her head.

 

It was only three months after that Steve got sick.

Bucky came home without Steve after school one afternoon. When Winifred asked where he was, Bucky simply shrugged.

“He’s sick today, I think. I’ll go over there in a bit.”

Sure enough, Bucky left a few minutes later. He came back through the door soon after, though. He was frowning.

“She said I couldn’t see him today,” Bucky said.

Winifred was trying to quiet a screaming Alice while making sure that Rebecca didn’t accidentally pull the pot off the stove. “I’m sure he’ll be back in school tomorrow.”

“I dunno,” Bucky said, taking Alice out of Winifred’s arms. “He was out three days last week.”

“It’s probably just that cold that’s been going around,” Winifred told him.

She knew it wasn’t going to be as simple as that. It never was, with Steve.

 

Sure enough, Bucky came home alone every day that week. He’d walk over to Steve’s apartment every day after school, and every day Sarah would turn him away.

“I don’t get why I can’t even see him for just a few minutes, just to say hi,” Bucky said one afternoon with a frown.

“Steve probably needs his rest,” Winifred said calmly, but her face fell when Bucky turned away.

 

“Will you come with me today?” Bucky asked her on Monday afternoon. Bucky hadn’t seen Steve in a full week now, and it looked like that frown was permanently etched on his face. “She probably won’t make you leave.”

“Sure,” Winifred said casually. “I’ll drop the girls at Helen’s for a few hours. Give me a few minutes?”

Bucky smiled for the first time in a week, and Winifred hurried to get her daughters ready.

By the time she’d dropped her daughters off at Helen’s, Bucky was waiting impatiently by the door.

“Hurry,” he said, bouncing up and down on his toes.

Winifred did.

 

Bucky ran up each flight of stairs and then waited impatiently for Winifred to catch up. She was out of breath by the time they reached the right floor. Winifred had no idea how either Steve or Sarah made it up these every day.

Winifred knocked on the door, glancing at Bucky. He was staring eagerly at the door, like he could break it down through sheer will alone.

No one answered the door, and Winifred’s heart sank. She knew Bucky was looking at her, though, so she steeled herself and knocked again.

“Sarah?” she called. “It’s me.”

The door opened a moment later.

Sarah stood behind it, somehow even skinner than she’d been when Winifred had last seen her. Her cheeks were sunken, and her eyes were red and bloodshot.

“Sarah?” Winifred again softly.

Sarah rubbed a hand over her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Come in. It’s just, I have to leave for work, I’ve already missed so many shifts and we need the money for rent, I can’t miss another, I just can’t, but I can’t… I can’t…”

Winifred stepped inside. Bucky followed her, his eyes wide. His earlier impatience was gone, and he seemed almost reluctant to step into the apartment.

The window was thrown wide, but it did little to help the thick and musty air. Sarah leaned against the counter, wrapping her arms around her thin frame.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said, her throat hoarse. “I can’t leave him, Winnie, I can’t, but we need the money, he needs medicine and he needs food and he needs better air but I can’t, I can’t give that to him.”

Winifred could hear Steve’s breathing from here. It was an awful damp noise that was somehow hoarse at the same time. Each breath sounded like a struggle.

Winifred rested her hand on Sarah’s arm for a moment before following Bucky. He was walking slowly into the single bedroom in the apartment.

“Steve?” Bucky called softly.

Steve was curled on the bed. His eyes were open, but he was staring blankly at the wall. He didn’t move at all when Winifred and Bucky walked in.

His skin was pale, except for his face. His face was flushed with a feverish pink, which only served to emphasize how much weight he’d lost. He hadn’t had much to lose in the first place, and now he looked barely more than skin and bones.

Each breath shook his entire body. It looked like it was taking all his strength to just breathe in and out.

“Steve?” Bucky said again. Steve’s eyes didn’t look at him, and nothing in his face showed that he could hear them.

Bucky carefully crawled onto the mattress next to Steve. Winifred automatically stretched out a hand to stop him, but pulled it back. There was no point, not with the two of them.

Bucky laid down next to Steve so that he was facing him.

“Steve?” he said, more quietly this time. Finally, Steve’s eyes flicked to his face.

Steve smiled, then. His lips were dry and cracked, and his eyes were glazed.

“Bucky,” he said happily. He stared at Bucky a moment longer, before his eyes went vacant again and the smile faded from his face.

Winifred left the room. Sarah was still standing in the kitchen, her hand over her mouth as she tried to muffle her sobs.

“He won’t eat,” she said quietly. “I tried and tried, but he just won’t.”

She pointed at the table, which was covered in dishes of neatly wrapped food. “The rest of the building… they’ve been bringing food over. For nothing, they haven’t asked for anything in return. I just open the door, and there’s more there. But he, even with all that, he can’t eat it.”

“I’m sorry,” Winifred said quietly. Sarah shook her head.

“I have to go to work,” she repeated. “I can’t get fired, Winnie, you know I can’t. We need the money, I can’t get fired but what if, what if…”

“I’ll stay with him,” Winifred said firmly. “Bucky and I’ll stay. We’ll stay until you get back, and longer if we need to.”

Sarah closed her eyes as more tears ran down her face. “What if it happens while I’m gone?”

Winifred took a deep breath. “It won’t, Sarah.”

Sarah opened her eyes to look at her. Winifred pointed at the bedroom.

“You hear him in there? You hear those breaths?”

“Yes,” Sarah whispered.

“That’s not the sound of someone who’s giving up,” Winifred said firmly. “He’s fighting. He’s spending all of his energy taking each one of those breaths, and he’s not going to stop.”

Sarah took a deep breath and rubbed at her eyes again. She nodded once, and then forced her eyes open.

“I have to go,” she said quietly. “I can’t be late.”

“We’ll take good care of him,” Winifred said.

Sarah didn’t smile, but her face relaxed slightly. “I know.”

Sarah didn’t look in the bedroom as she left. She didn’t look behind her as she closed the door, but Winifred could hear her start to cry again as she walked down the hallway.

Winifred went to work. She unwrapped all the plates of food on the table, before finally picking a soup that seemed gentle enough for anybody to eat.

She could hear Bucky talking the whole time. 

“You didn’t miss much at school, Stevie, but it was pretty boring without you there. We played baseball at lunch, but it was too hot and Julie hurt her knee and we had to go back inside. Oh, also, Eric kissed Sally on the bench at lunch, but Sally was really mad about it and she and Annie threw rocks at us on the way home. Eric wanted to throw rocks back but I told him not to, which is good because apparently they also threw rocks at Victor. Victor threw them back but then he got in trouble the next day at school because of it.”

Winifred heated the soup up a little on the stove, just enough so that it wasn’t cold. She carried it in to the bedroom on a tray.

“Bucky?” she asked softly. “Do you think we can get him to sit up and eat a little?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He was still lying on his side next to Steve, staring at him as he talked. Steve’s eyes were unfocused, but Winifred thought that his breathing sounded a little steadier. Maybe. It might have just been wistful thinking.

“Steve?” Bucky said. “Stevie, if I put a bunch of pillows behind you, will you sit up?”

Winifred was pretty sure that Steve was beyond comprehension by now, but to her surprise, Steve nodded slightly. Bucky grinned.

Winifred set the soup on the side table as she and Bucky built a near mountain of pillows against the headboard. Winifred gently lifted Steve to lean him up against the pillows. His skin was painfully hot to the touch, and he was much lighter than even baby Alice was.

Steve was staring off at the wall again, and he didn’t move at all when Winifred propped him up on the pillows.

“Keep talking, Bucky,” she said quietly as she got Steve settled.

Bucky was sitting on Steve’s other side, his face pale. He was staring in fright at the way Steve’s chest seemed to pause between each slow, painful breath.

“Um,” Bucky said finally. “Oh, I know. You know that picture you drew, Steve? The one of the school? Well, Miss Paulette liked it so much that she put it on the wall. It’s right up there with all the best work, Steve. It’s really good. She had to take down that ugly map that Benny drew to put it up, and the whole wall looks a lot better.”

To Winifred’s delight, Steve smiled slightly at that. Bucky smiled too, and looked eagerly at Winifred. She pointed at the soup.

“Steve, do you want to try and eat something?”

Steve shook his head slightly.

“Please?” Bucky said, a little desperately. “You gotta eat, Steve.”

Steve just shook his head again.

“I know you probably aren’t very hungry,” Bucky said. “But I am, and I’m not allowed to eat until you do, so you have to eat so I can eat.”

Winifred really doubted that it would work, but to her surprise, Steve slowly lifted his hand and thumped Bucky gently on the side of the head.

“Ow,” Bucky complained, although it couldn’t have hurt at all.

“He knows exactly what you’re trying to do,” Winifred told Bucky, but she was smiling.

Bucky shrugged. “Not trying to do anything. That soup smells really good. I didn’t get any lunch or dinner, I really want some of it.”

Winifred was pretty sure that if Steve wasn’t struggling for each breath, he would have sighed just like she did.

Winifred filled the spoon up with soup for Steve, but suddenly he was fixing his glassy eyes on her.

Steve took a deep, rattling breath and sat up a little more. Winifred leaned forward to help him, but he gently pushed her arms away.

“No,” Steve said. His voice was painfully hoarse and thin, but it was stronger than Winifred had expected. “I can do it.”

“Are you sure?” Winifred asked.

Bucky frowned at her. “He can do it.”

Winifred was apprehensive, but she was just about willing to let Steve do anything he wanted at the moment. She carefully lifted the tray and set it on the blanket covering Steve’s legs.

Steve’s hand was shaking so badly that Winifred was sure he’d spill, but he managed to get a small spoonful of soup into his mouth. Bucky was staring at him proudly.

Steve managed seven spoonfuls before he let the spoon fall back into the bowl. He leaned back into the pillows, forcing himself to take another deep breath.

Bucky cheered. “I told you he could do it!”

Steve smiled at him as he closed his eyes.

Winifred took the soup back to the kitchen. She walked back into the bedroom to find Steve curled back up on his pillows again, his eyes closed. Bucky was lying next to him just like before, so that they were face to face. They’d lain like this ever since they were little, and Winifred knew it was as natural to them as breathing.

Bucky was still talking, rambling on about his day and about how Rebecca had fallen off the table that morning and cried for hours. Winifred left to go get some water for Steve to drink, if he could manage it.

She paused outside the bedroom, listening to the quiet sound of Steve forcing himself to breathe in and out.

“I’d breathe for you if I could, Stevie,” she heard Bucky say quietly. Winifred closed her eyes.

“I know,” Steve whispered.

 

Sarah came home sometime in the very early morning. The air had cooled off a little by then, and a fresh breeze was coming in through the window.

Winifred was sitting in the corner of the bedroom. She blinked tiredly at Sarah as she walked in.

Sarah’s face crumpled as she looked down at Steve on the bed. He was deeply asleep, but his breathing actually seemed a little stronger.

Bucky was asleep next to him, still curled up.

“He ate half the soup,” Winifred whispered. “And he even drank a little water before he went back to sleep.”

Sarah sat down next to Steve on the bed and gently placed her hand on his forehead. “Thank you, Winnie.”

Winifred watched them all for a moment. Sarah laid down next to Steve, her hand still brushing his face.

“You should eat something,” Winifred said quietly.

“I will.”

 

The sun was rising when she heard Sarah start to cry. Winifred had been dozing in the chair, but she sat bolt upright.

Her heart seemed to stop in fear for a moment, before she registered the familiar sound of Steve’s rattling breaths. Sarah was kneeling next to him, her hand on his forehead.

“The fever broke,” she whispered, her tired face smiling.

Winifred got up and placed her hand on Steve’s forehead. Sure enough, his skin was much cooler to the touch.

Steve missed over a month of school with that particular illness, which meant that Bucky spent even more time each day over at Steve’s apartment. He dragged all of Steve’s homework to and from school every day, and refused to let him fall behind.

He did anyway.

 

The boys were fourteen when Bucky found his first girl. He’d already started to grow, by that point. He was taller than Winifred already, and soon he’d be as tall as George. Winifred had known that it was only a matter of time before his sunny disposition and his messy hair and blue eyes caught some lucky girl’s attention.

 Her name was Catherine, and she was tall too. She had dark hair and a pretty smile. She exclusively wore pink dresses and bows in her hair, but she could outrun Bucky in a race and could hit a baseball better than any of the boys in school.

Bucky eagerly told Winifred all of this over dinner. He had a huge smile on his face as he talked, and Winifred smiled back. Rebecca teased him about it, and George leaned over to punch him gently on the shoulder. George was smiling though.

“Starting early, just like me,” he said proudly before he went back to eating his dinner.

Bucky smiled happily back at him.

Winifred saw that Steve wasn’t smiling. She saw the way he clenched his spoon more tightly in his hand as Bucky talked, and the way he stared determinedly at the table in front of him.

Bucky didn’t notice, and Winifred was glad for it. It was better this way.

Bucky lost interest in Catherine a month later, and Winifred pretended that she didn’t notice the way Steve’s smiles came easier then, the way he looked like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

 

They were fifteen when Bucky met Charlotte. He fell even harder than her than he had for Catherine. For months, she was all he talked about. To Steve’s credit, he smiled and listened to Bucky talk about her endlessly. Describing her hair, her smile. About how wonderful their date had been the night before.

For a while, Winifred wondered if he was doing it on purpose. Surely Bucky saw the way Steve looked at him. How could he not notice, how could he not see it?

But he didn’t. Winifred knew he didn’t.

Bucky was never malicious. He never had been, even when he was a small child. He was always sunny, always smiling and happy and friendly. He’d never go out of his way to cause someone pain like he was doing now, not if he could help it.

But still, he was doing it. Steve started coming around to their apartment less, and he was subdued even when he did. Winifred didn’t blame him. Bucky had all the enthusiasm of a typical fifteen year old boy, and the focus of one. Even Winifred was getting tired of the constant talk about Charlotte.

Bucky missed a day of school a few months after that. Winifred had asked him for help, and Bucky had happily obliged. She’d twisted her ankle a few days earlier, and it was only getting worse. Bucky ran all of her errands for her that day, and somehow managed to convince the grocer to give him a few lollipops for Rebecca and Alice, too.

Bucky was helping her make dinner when they heard the knock on the door.

“I’ll get it!” Alice called. Winifred heard her skip to the door. “Steve!”

Bucky spun around, grinning. “Steve? Hey!”

Winifred looked up from the stove to see Steve appear in the kitchen doorway. Her hands went cold immediately. Her first thought was that something had happened to Sarah, but it was Bucky that Steve was staring at with concern.

The smile slipped off of Bucky’s face. “Steve?”

Steve was staring at him, his rain-soaked hair falling over his face.

 “You didn’t hear,” Steve said quietly.

“Hear what?” Bucky said sharply.

Steve glanced at Rebecca and Alice, who were crowded in the doorway.

“Girls, I need help folding your dresses for Sunday,” Winifred said as she pushed her daughters out of the kitchen. She listened to them babble to each other once they were in the bedroom, but her ears were listening for sounds from the kitchen.

The front door flying open and then slamming shut told Winifred all she needed to know.

“Bucky!” she heard Steve shout. “Come on, Bucky!”

Winifred found out later that evening. Helen from down the hall appeared on her doorstep, her eyes wide and the gossip nearly spilling out of her lips.

“Did you hear about the girls?” she asked breathlessly once Winifred had reluctantly invited her inside. “How’s Bucky? He was interested in one of them, wasn’t he?”

Winifred learned from Helen that two girls had been struck by a car the night before. Both had been killed instantly. One of them was Charlotte.

Bucky came home late that night. He didn’t look at anyone as he stormed through the apartment and into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him and locking it.

Rebecca and Alice whined endlessly because all of their things were in there, but Winifred convinced them to leave him alone for the time being. He left again a few hours later, slamming the door.

Bucky didn’t come back that night, or any time the next day. Winifred sent George out to look for him, but he returned home a few hours later with nothing to show for it.

Winifred put her coat on and marched over to Sarah’s. It was a cold night, and Bucky didn’t even have his coat with him. She brought it with her, just in case he was there.

Sarah opened the door, but the apartment was quiet behind her.

“I heard,” Sarah said before Winifred could speak. “It’s such a sad thing. That poor family.”

“Yes,” Winifred responded. She clutched Bucky’s coat tighter. “Is he here?”

Sarah shook her head. “No. I sent Steve out to look for him a while ago, though. It’s too cold a night for him to be out there on his own.”

Winifred bit her lip. She wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t used to having to worry about Bucky. He was safe, he was strong. He was healthy.

“Steve’ll find him,” Sarah said reassuringly. “He always does, Winnie.”

 

Sure enough, Winifred woke up the next morning to find Bucky asleep on the couch. His eyes were puffy and swollen, but he was there and he was safe. He was under a pile of blankets that Steve had clearly thrown on top of him. Steve himself was curled in the armchair, his threadbare coat pulled over him. Winifred made a mental note to ask Helen if she could have one of her boys’ old coats to give to Steve.

 

The boys were sixteen when Steve and Sarah finally moved apartments. They didn’t ask for help, of course, even though Winifred would have dragged her entire family over there to pitch in. She only found out when Bucky came home one evening exhausted, and immediately threw himself face down on the couch. Apparently he’d helped them move all their furniture, just the three of them. Winifred had a feeling that he’d ended up carrying each piece of furniture that Steve and Sarah owned.

Winifred went over there a few days later, a warm quilt folded in her bag. It was an unusual housewarming gift, admittedly, but Winifred knew the Rogers family and she knew that they needed a warm blanket much more than they needed a decorative vase or plate.

Her heart sank as she climbed the stairs to their new apartment. The building was even more rundown than their last one had been, and the door nearly gave way when Winifred knocked.

Sarah opened it a moment later.

Winifred held up the blanket. “Heard you moved.”

“Oh, Winnie, I couldn’t…” Sarah immediately said. Winifred knew her too well by now, though, and walked past her into the apartment.

It was cold in here, and Winifred was glad that she’d brought the quilt. She had another at home, she’d have to figure out a way to give it to Sarah without her seeing it as charity.

“It’s not much, I know,” Sarah said softly. “I haven’t… I haven’t been able to take as many shifts lately, and the rent on the other place was just so high…”

“Of course,” Winifred said brightly. “No, Sarah, it’s nice. Are these Steve’s?”

Winifred wandered around the small living room and kitchen area, the walls carefully decorated with drawings.

“Yes,” Sarah said, a smile finally breaking over her thin face. She coughed and had to catch her breath before she could speak again. “They’re good, aren’t they?”

“They’re wonderful,” Winifred said firmly. “Bucky has so many of them, they’re all over the walls in our apartment.”

“Really?” Sarah said, smiling again. “That’s lovely.”

She started coughing again, turning away and pressing her handkerchief to her mouth. Winifred waited until she could breathe again, and she didn’t miss the blood on the handkerchief as Sarah pulled it away from her mouth.

“Sarah,” Winifred said softly.

“It’s fine,” Sarah said immediately.

“Sarah,” Winifred said again.

“Do you want some tea?” Sarah said, bustling around the kitchen. Winifred sighed.

 

They were seventeen when both boys started working full time. Steve had dropped out of school months ago, despite the protests of everyone that knew him. He’d managed to find a few small jobs working in stores, although Winifred had a feeling that he’d been given them more out of pity than anything. It worried Winifred, though not nearly as much as it worried Sarah. Steve wasn’t healthy enough to be out there in the cold and the snow, walking from job to job at all hours of the night. There was no changing Steve’s mind, though. He and Sarah needed money for rent, and Sarah could barely walk to the store and back by then. There was no way that she could work long shifts at the hospital anymore, let alone work at all.

George had been working down at the docks for over ten years. It was tough work, but it paid the bills and kept them all fed. He’d started taking Bucky with him a few days a week, even though Winifred disapproved of it.

Winifred didn’t know the details of what happened because George refused to tell her, but George came home one day with his face contorted in pain and a leg that never let him work again.

Bucky worked full time after that. He gave far too much of his money to Winifred and George, but he wouldn’t take no for answer. Winifred knew that he was also giving whatever he had left to Steve, to pay for food and medicine for Sarah. She had no idea how he’d managed to convince Steve to take it.

 

Sarah Rogers knew that she was dying. There was no question about it, at least not in her mind. She’d been a nurse since she was a teenager, and had spent over a decade working in the same hospital. She knew what dying people looked like. She knew how they sounded.

She knew that she looked and sounded just like them, by this point.

She hadn’t worked in months, and it was excruciating. She spent most of her time in bed, staring at the dust on the floor and on the windows. Steve was barely there, and when he was he spent all of his time making sure she was comfortable. It broke her heart to see him trudge home again after working two different jobs and collapse at the kitchen table, his head in his hands and his chronic cough tearing up his throat.

Bucky was there too, as much as he could be. He brought food by, even when Steve wasn’t there. Winifred would send over soup or bread whenever she couldn’t visit herself, but it wasn’t enough. Sarah knew that she had passed the point of being any benefit to her son. She was his burden now, and it wasn’t fair to him. He’d had a hard enough life as it was. He didn’t need this too.

She knew that she should be in the hospital. It wasn’t fair of her, to make Steve watch her die like this. It was messy, and it was painful, and she could see the fear and the sadness in his eyes every time he watched her gasp for breath. They didn’t have the money for it, though, not even close.

She’d heard Steve arguing with Bucky one night, when they thought she was asleep.

“Just take the damn money, Steve.”

“I don’t need your money! I’m gonna get that job down at Hensen’s store – “

“Are you serious? You can barely keep the two that you have!”

“We need the money – “

“Then take mine! I’ve got enough right now, Steve.”

“I’m not a charity case, Buck. I can take care of my own mother.”

She heard Bucky sigh. “Don’t pull that shit on me, Steve. You know I don’t think that you’re a goddamn charity case.”

“But –“

“She needs that medicine, Steve. You can pay me back later, or something, if that makes you feel better. But I want to help.”

“I can – “

“Steve.”

There was a long pause.

“I’m gonna pay you back for it.”

“Fine.”

 

Bucky came by again a week later. Steve was at work, and Sarah told him so.

“That’s all right,” Bucky said cheerfully. He was heating up some soup on the stove that he’d brought over while Sarah sat at the table and watched him. “I’ve got the day off, and Ma would never forgive me if I gave this soup to you without heating it up first.”

He was telling Sarah about his day when Sarah finally interrupted him.

“Bucky?”

He looked up from the stove, a slight frown crossing his face. “Yeah?”

“You’ll look after him, won’t you?”

Bucky carefully set the spoon down on the counter. “Sarah…”

“I need to know,” Sarah said firmly. Her hands were folded on the table in front of her, and she stared him in the eyes. “He can’t… he can’t be alone, Bucky.”

Bucky slowly sat down at the table across from her. He reached out and took one of her cold, thin hands in hers. “He won’t be. He won’t ever be.”

Sarah closed her eyes, forcing her tired lungs to pull in another breath. “Thank you. I just… I just needed to hear it.”

When she looked at him again, his face was sad but his eyes were still bright. “He’s not getting rid of me that easy. He’s stuck with me, whether he likes it or not.”

Sarah laughed in spite of herself and wiped at her eyes.

 

Sarah Rogers died in her sleep that November. Bucky didn’t come home one evening, and Winifred just… knew.

Sure enough, the door opened the next evening and Bucky walked through. He kept glancing over his shoulder, and Steve shuffled in after him a moment later. His face was even paler than usual, and he stared resolutely at the floor in front of him.

“There’s soup on the stove,” Winifred said by way of greeting. “Bucky, can you get the table ready please?”

Bucky sent her a grateful look and hurried into the kitchen. Steve stood numbly in the warmth of the living room, his hands in his pockets and his jaw clenched.

Winifred didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her arms around him, the familiar sound of his ragged breathing against her ear.

He didn’t hug her back, but he didn’t pull away, either.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. He rested his hands on her back for just a moment, as they listened to Bucky pulling bowls out of the cupboard and starting to dish out the soup.

“You’ll stay here, for tonight at least,” Winifred ordered as she pulled back.

Steve frowned, still staring at the floor. “You don’t have to – “

“I want to.”

Steve finally nodded, his jaw still clenched tight.

 

Bucky moved out three weeks later. He’d found a place nearby, with a low enough rent that he could cover it on his own. Steve only agreed to come with him on the terms that he’d pay for the food, if Bucky was going to pay for the rent.

George grumbled about it a little. He thought that Bucky should be setting his sights on getting married soon, not moving in with his childhood friend. Winifred ignored him and spent two days cleaning Bucky’s new apartment before she let them move in. She was just grateful that he was only a few blocks away, both him and Steve. She’d heard enough of the gossip and read enough of the newspapers, and she knew what was coming.

 

All three of Helen’s boys signed up on the first day. Bucky didn’t, and Winifred didn’t need to ask why.

 

It was only a matter of time, though, and Winifred wasn’t surprised when Bucky told her that he was going.

He came to see her the day before he left. Rebecca and Alice fussed over him and told him how good he looked in his uniform. George didn’t say anything, just clapped Bucky on the shoulder. They looked at each for a long moment, and then George looked down and put his coat on. He went down to the bar, and Winifred didn’t see him for three days.

“You better have that soup ready and waiting for me when I get back,” Bucky said, smiling at her. Winifred looked up at him, her hands shaking slightly.

“Of course,” Winifred said as she tugged at his uniform. “Only if you come back safe, though. In one piece.”

“Course I will,” Bucky said. She knew him too well, though, and she could read the fear in his eyes. “But, Ma, you have to look after Steve when I’m gone. He’ll be all alone in that apartment, and you know he can’t afford both food and rent, and he won’t take his medicine when he’s supposed to or sleep enough and – “

“Bucky,” Winifred interrupted. She smoothed his hair down to hide how badly her hands were shaking. “Steve will be fine. I’ll make sure of it. Don’t you worry about him, you hear me? He’ll be fine. You’re the one we’ll all be worrying about.”

“Nah,” Bucky said dismissively. “I’ll be fine, Ma. I’m always fine.”

“You promise?” Winifred asked, not able to meet her son’s eyes.

“Yes. I’ll be back before you know it, you just wait.”

“I will,” Winifred said, before she threw her arms around him and held him as tightly as she could. She breathed in the smell of his hair and his uniform. She felt his heartbeat under her hands, strong and rhythmic just like it always was.

He hugged her back, his arms tight around her shoulders. He was so much taller than her, now. That was good. He’d need to be strong, for what was coming for him. He’d need to be healthy.

“I love you,” she whispered to him. She closed her eyes, trying to soak in as much of the moment as she could. She needed this. She would need this, this memory of holding her son in her arms.

“I love you too, Ma,” he said quietly. He finally pulled away. “I gotta go meet Steve, but I’ll try and come by before I leave.”

“All right,” she said, her throat starting to become painful.

They didn’t say goodbye. Winifred couldn’t. She watched him walk down the hallway. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at her, and she waved back. He turned the corner, his face bright and his eyes so blue. Always so blue.

Winifred stepped back into the apartment and closed the door. Her legs gave out and she fell against it, her hands pressed against her chest as she gasped for breath.

She tried to cover her face with her arm to muffle her desperate sobs. It felt like her body was tearing itself apart, like her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. It was worse than childbirth, worse than anything. Each breath burned her lungs as the pain ran straight through her legs and her arms.

Rebecca was kneeling in front of her, then.

“He’ll be fine, he’ll be fine,” she was saying. “He’s strong, he’ll come back.”

“He never makes promises he can’t keep,” Alice said.

Winifred shook her head at them and then reached out. She pulled both of her daughters against her, there on her old worn floor. He wouldn’t be. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she’d just held her son in her arms for the last time. He was her first child, the first baby that she’d ever carried in her body. She’d watched him take his first steps, she’d chased him home through the busy streets as his laughter echoed off the buildings. She’d watched him win his first baseball game, read the first story he’d ever wrote. Her name had been his first word, and there’d been so many days when his smile was the only thing that could make her smile too.

The apartment already felt painfully quiet. It felt like it wasn’t home anymore. Bucky hadn’t even lived there for months, but it was different, somehow. The light had gone out of it. It had gone out of her, and she knew that.

She’d pulled herself together by the next morning. She busied herself around the house, cleaning and cooking and doing chores that didn’t even really need to be done. She sewed, she mended, and she held her daughters as close as she could.

Thank god she had them. Thank god she wasn’t like Helen, with three boys. One was hard enough.

Well, two, really.

 

Steve came by a few days later. Winifred invited him in when she found him standing on her doorstep, although he refused to go further than the living room.

“I, uh…” he said slowly. “I’m going. They signed my papers this morning.”

“Oh,” Winifred said softly. She didn’t ask why, or how. It didn’t matter.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “So I thought I’d come by, just for a minute. Just to say goodbye, I guess.”

“Thank you,” Winifred said softly. She hugged him too, as tightly as she could. Partly for herself, and partly for Sarah. “You don’t do anything stupid while you’re gone, Steve Rogers. You know what your mother would say if you got yourself hurt.”

Steve smiled against her shoulder.

 

He left, and Winifred watched him walk down the hallway.

Steve was already out of the building when Winifred ran after him. She caught up to him on the street.

“Steve!” she called. He turned around, his face surprised. “Steve.”

“Yeah?” he asked, stopping so she could catch up with him.

“You keep him safe, all right?” she asked, her breath catching in her throat again.

Steve frowned. “I’m going somewhere else – “

“No,” Winifred interrupted him. “That doesn’t matter. You’ll find him, I know you will. The two of you always find each other. But you have to promise me, Steve Rogers. You’ll look after him?”

“Of course,” Steve said slowly. “You know I will.”

“Good,” Winifred said, forcing herself to take a breath. “He needs you, Steve. Just like you need him. So you go and find him, and you stay with him, all right?”

“Yes,” Steve said. His hands were in his pockets, and his small frame looked so delicate. That fire was still in his eyes, though. It was the same fire that had somehow kept him breathing, even after all those illnesses and all those winters. That fire was something that Winifred could never hope to understand, and she would never even try to. All she knew was that it would keep Steve alive, and that it would keep her son safe.

“Thank you,” Winifred repeated. Steve suddenly stepped forward and hugged her again, quickly this time. He disappeared into the crowd of people a moment later, and vanished against the sea of dark coats and hurried footsteps.

 

They got a few letters, spread out over a series of months and always short. It was something, though, and Rebecca and Alice put them up on the living room wall. George didn’t even read them, just glanced at them and looked away. Winifred didn’t blame him for it.

 

The four of them were eating dinner when they heard it. Rebecca had been chattering about the dress she’d seen in a store window earlier, but she stopped midway through her sentence when they heard the scream.

Winifred knew. George didn’t look up from his bowl of soup, and Winifred knew. That was the sound that only a mother could make. That screaming came from the kind of pain that only a mother could know.

Winifred got to her feet and opened the door. Helen was on her knees in the hallway, the telegram clutched against her chest and her face bowed.

Winifred knelt beside her and gently pulled Helen into her arms. Helen’s hands clutched desperately at Winifred’s dress, her screams bringing the other residents of the building running.

It took three hours before Helen could get up. Winifred helped her into her apartment and got the tea ready. It would be a long night.

 

The knock came on their own door a month later. The four of them were in the living room. Rebecca and Alice were looking at dress patterns, and George was reading the newspaper in his armchair. Winifred was knitting, but her mind was elsewhere.

They all looked up at the soft knock. Winifred set her knitting down in her lap and closed her eyes.

She knew.

 

Rebecca was the one who got up to open it. Winifred opened her eyes to see the two men at the door hand her a letter before walking away again.

Rebecca closed the door behind them and then just stared at the letter in her hand.

The bedroom door slammed as Alice ran inside it. Winifred could hear her start to cry.

George didn’t move from his chair, but his hands had turned white on the newspaper.

Winifred slowly got up and walked over to Rebecca. She carefully took the letter out of Rebecca’s hand, opening it quickly.

There was no point in waiting. She knew what it said.

It was all very formal. Typed on a typewriter, signed with some man’s signature. A bunch of formal prose and then the words “James Barnes, killed in action.”

Beneath all of that formality and ink was something else, written in familiar handwriting.

“I’m sorry”, it said. There was no signature beneath it, but Winifred would know Steve’s writing anywhere.

Rebecca dropped to the floor beside her, and Winifred knelt next to her. She pulled her daughter into her arms, letting her cry into her dress.

 

They sent Steve’s letter to her, too. Alice smashed every plate and glass they owned when the knock on the door came again, and Rebecca didn’t get out of bed for three days. George walked out the door and didn’t come home for a week.

At least they got letters. Helen only got telegrams, all three of them.

 

 _At least they’re together,_ Winifred thought as Alice cried herself to sleep in her arms. It was good that they were together. Never could keep those two apart.

 

Winifred Marie Barnes died eight years later, her daughters by her side and her baby grandsons curled up in the bed beside her. That was okay, too. She missed her son. Her daughters had families, had children of their own. Her husband had been gone for years, and Winifred was tired.

She had a son to get home to.

 

Decades later, Steve Rogers would leave flowers on her grave before getting on another plane. Four months after that, he would walk into a bar in Russia and finally, finally see a familiar face sitting at a table in the corner.

 

Two years after that, Bucky Barnes would place flowers on Winifred’s grave and on Sarah’s, too. Steve Rogers would be standing beside him.

Those two always did keep their promises.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'd love to have your feedback on this, and I really hope you enjoyed it. You can find me at [cameronwolfe.tumblr.com](http://cameronwolfe.tumblr.com) if you want to message me there, or just come say hi!


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